


Random Community Ficlets

by Ilthit



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Tumblr prompts, but not sticking to the three-sentence rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Have a Chuncan Christmas (for robotlesbianjavert)

>   
>  Christmas in the US vs. Christmas in the UK
> 
> Pro:  
> \- no relatives means no chilly turkey dinner after a massive intergenerational fight
> 
>  
> 
> Con:  
> \- they go bloody bonkers with the bloody Christmas lights  
> \- seriously, has anyone in this country ever heard of a Boxing Day hangover  
> \- Changs

"Stop whining,” groaned Ben Chang, splayed across the far side of the trundle bed in Rev. Temperance Chang’s basement. “It’s not Christmas without at least two Rudolphs and 500 feet of lights.”


	2. Naughty Thrills (for wdwsparkles)

"I am not going in the bouncy castle."

"Come on, Jeff, it will be fun! And you said you wanted to do something naughty."

"I’m almost afraid to ask, but how does a 40 year old man jumping around in a bouncy castle count as ‘naughty’?" 

Annie leaned in conspiratorially. “It says ‘under-twelves only’.”


	3. Yesterday (for Rubynye)

Britta loved  _Annie_  when she was nine years old. She used to watch it every Christmas Eve, before the pile of presents sent by family and business associates could distract them all.

Ms. Hannigan was a dragon, her brother a villain, and that woman of his a dirty slut. Britta was happy to be a better person than any of them, like Annie, or how Daddy Warbucks was underneath. He was like Britta’s dad, and she was like his Annie, only she’d never had to deal with a Ms. Hannigan. If she did, her daddy would… 

That was where the fantasy faltered, or rather, where it became a fantasy even she couldn’t believe in.

At age 32, Britta forces herself to go see  _Annie_  again, because she is all for re-imagining stories of systematically oppressed people through the lens of current-day racial bias. She goes to see it because Annie  _should_  be black in order to tell the story she didn’t understand at all when she was nine years old.


	4. The "Old Friend" Stage (Shirley/Jeff)

Shirley rolled her shoulders and moved her head from side to side, closing her eyes. It had been a six hour flight and she'd hugged everyone, even Frankie, and sat up with them until they'd called it an early night - all but Jeff and Britta. Jeff could already hear her next words: time she get back to her hotel, time she get some sleep. But Annie was gone, Abed was gone, Troy and Pierce were gone, and Jeff's eyes devoured Shirley's every motion.

“Do you… well… I mean…" Go for another drink? Jeff's mouth was stale with alcohol still, despite the mints he kept popping, and Shirley was a teetotaler. She stopped, mouth already half-open to deliver her excuses. "I could give you a massage?”

"Jeffrey." There was a tone of delight in her voice, so he stood up and circled her chair. The bar Britta worked at was the quietest in town, its lights low and its conversation audible.

Her shoulders were tight under her sweater collar. He rubbed his fingers along her shoulders, up her neck, as he'd taught himself long ago, as he'd done with many women he'd then taken to bed and then never thought of again, in a different life. Her head drooped forward and she sighed in pleasure, any words about leaving forgotten.

For now.


	5. Chuncan Making Out, Because of Reasons

“Okay, dude, you are actually hurting me.”

“Are you kidding me? Everybody likes getting their bottom pinched. OW!” 

“Yeah, you like that? Fucking creep. This is why no-one ever wanted to sleep with you before.”

“You are so wrong. I’ve slept with five different people, pinched all of them, and only three of them dumped me right after.”

“Pinch  _me_  one more time, rat-breath, and I will eat your firstborn and vomit her down your sweater.”

“…And this is why  _you_  are actually my rock-bottom. OW! Hey!”

“Pinching is out. Slapping is fun.”

“…Yeah, all right.”


	6. Charity Auction (Chuncan)

“You didn’t tell me anyone could bid!” Ian hissed. 

Dean Pelton lifted his hands and backed half a step towards the stage curtains, over which hung a brightly coloured banner announcing the fifth annual Greendale charity date auction. “Ian, we can’t discriminate by gender.”

“How about by level of crazy?” 

“At Greendale we don’t exclude anyone, whether male, female, other, safe, or Chang.”

There was a joyful yowl of “Oh, snap!” from fifth row in the audience. How did Chang, who took zero notice of social niceties, always know just the right distance to sit so no-one would notice him until it was too late? “Stick out that stiff upper lip, hamster-breath. You’re mine for the day!”

“Think of the _puppies_ , Ian,” said Pelton and ran away behind the podium. 

-

The auction was over and the gym was spinning with lights, not because Ian had taken a few swigs of spiked punch, but because there was a mirror-ball turning and glittering above. The dean’s taste was nothing if not tacky. People milled around, some with dates with auction lapels on.

Ian wasn’t entirely sure why he was still here. Top contenders for the reason were (a) the punch, and (b) needing to show Chang who was boss. Ian wasn’t _afraid_ , he was disgusted, but the distinction was difficult to convey while running away. He’d rather duke it out with his diminutive and ridiculous nemesis right here on the dance floor than let him think he’d won.

“Oh, there you are.” Ian spun around to see Chang, dressed in a white tuxedo and holding two glasses. “I brought you the unspiked punch. There’s still a bowl left by the north wall.”

“Oh, right, sure it is. It’s not going to be that easy, Chang. What did you put in? Emetics? Nice try.”

“Suit yourself,” said Chang, shrugged, drank both, and tossed both cups away over his shoulders. “Let’s dance.”

The evening wore on in an atmosphere of terror.

Those drinks could have been spiked. Chang absolutely was the kind of person who would drink slow-acting poison just to put Ian off his guard. Every dance was a dance-off - probably. Every time the little son of a bitch brought him a plate or a corsage or an unopened miniature bottle of Talisker it was a trap of some kind, if only he could figure out what. 

Then the dance was over and they were sitting together at a diner not far from campus eating a greasy chicken burger with no cheese (Chang) and a horrid excuse for fish and chips (Ian), and Ian was beginning to seriously worry he might get murdered. Chang could have paid the cook to put ground glass in the chips… somehow. He turned a skinny American chip around to see if anyone had poked glass in it. 

“All right, you awful little rodent. Date’s almost over. What is it? What are you planning? Can we not just get old-fashioned drunk and go at it in the parking lot? What is your game here?”

“Parking lot? You nasty slag.” Chang’s mouth sought the straw of his drink, his eyes never leaving Ian’s.

“Oh, you’re learning about my culture now? Slag? Why don’t you call me tosser or pillock while you’re at it? And why would you pay ten bucks just to insult me? You can do that any day in the teacher’s lounge.”

Chang shrugged. “Only way you’d actually date me.”

Ian slumped back against the red plastic of his seat. After a while, he said, “You need to get back in the closet.“ 

Chang just snickered.


	7. Double Date (Frankie/Annie + Frankie/Britta)

“So you’re sure this has nothing to do with the bet about my sexuality?” Frankie asked for the third time, to a chorus of “YES!” 

“It’s just that I’ve never been on a date with two girls before. It’s exciting!”

“You’d only be dating us one at a time if this someone didn’t get her calendar dates mixed up.”

Britta groaned and slumped back against the booth. “Excuse me if I’m not anal enough to own three colour-coded calendars.”

“You have one on your phone, and you are plenty anal.”

“Girls, I admit I’m not an expert, but I think we’re exceeding the parameters of banter appropriate on first dates, okay?”

“Fine.”

“Sorry.”

Frankie grinned, looking from one pouty face to another. “So, who wants to buy me a drink?”

“We’ll put it on George and Deb’s tab.”


	8. Watch That Stereotype (Abed/Jeff + Jeff/Craig + Abed/Troy)

“Wait,” said Jeff, leaning back away from Abed, “is this happening because it should be happening or is it because we’re gay now?”

“We’re not gay,” said Abed, rolling back onto his heels, pointing rapidly to each of them in turn.

“You know what I mean. We are both having more than our accustomed share of contact with dicks. Are you and Troy even nonexclusive?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask that question.”

“Wait. Are Craig and I nonexclusive?”

“You really shouldn’t have to ask that question.”

“Maybe we’re just meant to be friends. I don’t want to be one of those incredibly handsome gay guys who have no friends left because they’ve slept with all of them.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Abed hitched his bag higher up on his shoulder and stepped back. “If it makes any difference, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you across the courtyard in that shirt.”

They looked at each other; or rather, Jeff stared at Abed’s face, which was blank, but what KIND of blank? - while Abed seemed to be frowning at a bit of lint on Jeff’s shoulder. (Jeff quickly checked his shoulder for lint.) 

“Check with the Dean and let me know.” Abed nodded, turned on his heel and walked off. Jeff could almost hear the commercials starting.


End file.
